Friday, June 6, 2014


Opal entered the house. Basement windows are easy. Kick right in. They had some kind of metal security bar, but I don't think the manufacturer considered zombies when he designed it, because Opal smashed that too. Squeezed through and slid down onto an old sofa. Place was like a little Smithsonian for discarded suburban paraphernalia ... a thirty year old Mac, basically a toy by today's standards... stuffed 'Alf' thing... chorus line of mangled, sometimes headless Barbies. Guess they got fashion doll zombies too. Creatures like Opal can see in the dark. Not magic. Just a keen ability to detect photons. We told you. Vampires got the magic, not 'fleisch essern.'

She got down on all fours. Quieter that way. Divides the weight. And scurried up the steps. Any creepy-crawlies sneaking about got out of her way real fast. First floor was typical. Pergo in the family room. Ceramic in the kitchen. Not granite. Just Corian. But it was alright. Better than what Opal's family had before she ate them. Well, she didn't eat all of them. Topaz got away. Tall clock ticked in the living room. Opal wondered what the husband did.

She went upstairs.....

Carpeting needed cleaning. Almost made her sneeze. A few of the treads squeaked real bad. Somebody snorted. Opal froze. Then the bed squeaked too. Night noises are mostly pops and squeaks and creaks. Houses live too, you know. We just crawl around inside their guts. Seven heartbeats later the somebody who snorted mumbled - Shit, gotta go pee..... It was her. It was that teacher. Opal pressed her body down onto the steps. She couldn't really see into the master bedroom from that angle, but she heard the woman get up, enter a room (guess in was the master bath, or the en suite, or whatever they call it now.) go in and close the door. Hubby kept snoring away. Our ninth grade zombie silently scrambled into the room and slid under the bed. Then she just waited amid old slippers, dog toys and whatever other crap was under there. The dog was dead, but luckily they didn't leave it under the bed. Him they had cremated. After a few minutes the woman came back. Had a rule in this house... No pee-pee flushing during the night. But she did wash her hands. Few greasy, little farts. Gonna be dead soon, but she don't know that.

Opal waits til the snoring starts. Then she slides out, carefully climbs up onto the bed, straddles the victim, pins her arms and immediately goes to work. The wicked teacher starts screaming with the excision of the first dollop of flesh..... Ed! Ed! Ed! - she goes. Get the gun! Get the gun! G-g-get the gun! ....... Ed goes - Whatsa matter!? Whatsa matter!?...... Zombie! Zombie! Zombie....... Flesh is flying. Blood splatters everywhere. Sheets like a slaughter house in hell. But Ed can't find that gun. Keeps shaking and going - Oh my god! Oh my God..... Opal keeps grindin' away like the Tasmanian Devil.... Just like a strong, little ninth grade zombie buzz saw. Teacher done talking. Mostly trembles and gurgles now. Ed watches, slack jawed and helpless.... Lungs go. Heart goes. And with the last spark of tortured  life the wicked teacher has, Opal leans over and whispers in her ear~ Don't you wish you let me get my drink?.... Then it's over....

Ed says - Is she gone?..... Opal goes - Yep..... Ed asks - You gonna kill me? Opal spits out an eyeball, that bounces off his stomach and goes - What do you think?.... With that he darts 'round the bed, grabs something off the dresser, runs into the bathroom and slams the door. Locks it too. Must of grabbed a cell phone, 'cause she hears him making a call.... to the cops. And they don't cotton much to zombie free for alls in these parts. So she crashes through the door, grabs his head and like a cartoon beaver grinds through a tree, shears that ugly sucker right off and drops it in the urine filled, unflushed toilet.

Eleven heartbeats later she's out on the dark, dark street. Soon after her ride glides by, she jumps in and they're off.

Madam Blavatska will be very pleased, indeed.


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